


i love the way you look up in the sky.

by lovesincerelyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesincerelyharry/pseuds/lovesincerelyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Harry wants to jump. Louis tries to save him.</p><p>Also found at <a href="http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/">lovesincerelyharry</a> on tumblr.</p><p>Now in <a href="http://ficbook.net/readfic/2741101">Russian</a> !!</p>
            </blockquote>





	i love the way you look up in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have noticed from the title, this one shot was inspired by two Eminem songs, "Love The Way You Lie" and "Space Bound". There will be a lot of influence from the both of them, particularly the latter one, so all lyrics you may find in this one shot, credit goes directly to Mr. Mathers himself.
> 
> This one shot was stewing in my mind for a long time, and I finally got the motivation to write it. It's really heavy in the angst category, so be prepared for that.
> 
> Thank you for choosing to read this; you guys are amazing.

**Step One: Be _Breathless_**

Plink.

One.

Plink.

Two.

PlinkPlinkPlink.

ThreeFourFive.

PlinkPlinkPlinkPlinkPlink.

SixSevenEightNineTen.

Last one.

Plink.

The water rippled as the last pill dropped. Harry cocked his head to the side as he watched the small, white pill sink down into the murky river, disappearing on the bottom. The body of water was maybe five, six feet deep. And from this height, it was nearly fifty feet beneath him.

He moved off the railing of the bridge and walked to his right. Beneath him, the scenery changed, becoming boulders and dirt and brush. He attached himself to the railing again, leaning half of his six foot one frame over. He spotted one specific rock, big and gray and ominous, and he wanted to land on that one. The nearly pointed edge on the top assisted in Harry’s choosing.

He leaned back and stood up on the lowest rail, standing almost eight inches higher. He pivoted his body and looked over the edge of the bridge, peering at the sharp ground. For once in nearly six months, his thoughts were calm; no maleficent ideas came into his head, and no voices told him that he wasn’t worth it. Everything was serene, and as the water flowed beside him, he stepped up another eight inches, his hands grasping the upper rail as he leaned more than half of his body over the barrier.

His curls hung down, and he chuckled. The wind brushed his body, and his laugh transitioned into a smile. He shut his eyes and slowly released his right hand, stretching it out in front of him. He twisted his fingers as the wind rippled between them, and Harry knew it was time; he was waiting for a moment as perfect as this.

Harry felt himself falling, but backwards, not forward. The wind stopped and those thoughts came back. He opened his eyes, seeing the top of the bridge and the sky beyond it.

_Am I dead?_

He sat up, realizing he was back on the bridge, four feet away from the railing.

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?” Harry spun his head and saw a panting boy sitting two feet behind him. “You could have _died_!”

_But that was the plan._

“Are you even _listening_ to me?” The boy glared at Harry, clearly reprimanding him. “Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that was?”

Harry stared at the boy, calculating his words. His mind registered what the stranger said, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating. His eyes, however, were eager; they trailed the boy’s body, from his quiffed hair to his strong thighs, his muscular arms to his curvy waist. Harry licked his lips, unsure of what he was feeling, but his chest was heavy; he was breathless.

“Why?” Harry’s voice rang out on the poorly-lit bridge. _Three letters were better than none_ , Harry calculated.

The boy gaped. “Why _what_?”

Harry licked his lips again. “Why did you save me?”

He opened his mouth to say something; then, the boy’s eyes grew wide. “Save you?” His voice, which once had authority, was now timid.

Harry pushed his hands off the ground, standing up. The boy mirrored his movements, taking a step closer. “Yeah, I was trying to kill myself. You really messed up my plans, thanks.” Harry turned around and started walking away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Hey! Wait!” Harry just kept his head down and continued walking. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his wrist, halting him. The boy stood right next to him, almost four inches shorter than him. _Short boys are hot._

_No._

_Don’t._

“What the fuck do you want?”

The boy gaped for the second time that night. “Where are you going?” He still had his hand on Harry’s wrist.

_Damn, his voice was pretty._

“I was planning on going home.” Harry yanked his arm away. “Is that okay with you?”

“Are you really going to go home?” His voice was quiet.

Harry blinked. “Why do you care?” For some reason, Harry’s voice matched the boy’s, soft and timid but searching.

“Because I don’t want you to walk to another bridge and do the same thing.”

_How did he know?_

No one had ever known that much about him, realized that much so quickly, understood that dark part of him. The boy in front of him grasped more about Harry than what he was willing to divulge. That fucking _terrified_ him.

_Get away. Run._

Harry’s stomach knotted as he spun around again, walking quickly away from the boy. His heart depended on his legs, and he willed his legs to not give up.

By the time he reached the end the bridge, a body ran past Harry, stopping five feet in front of him. Harry glared as the huffing boy waited for Harry to near him.

“I can’t let you go.” His breath was ragged, but his words were strong-willed.

For the second time that night, Harry asked, “Why?”

The boy gasped. “Because I don’t want to lose you. No one should ever kill themselves. That’s never the answer."

_Lose you? Lose me?_

“You just met me. Why do you care?” Harry shrugged at the ground. “I’m nobody to you.”

“No, actually, you are someone I’m glad I saved.” He paused, taking a small step towards Harry. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. You’re coming home with me, and I don’t give a _damn_ what you say.”

It wasn’t conceivable; Harry’s mind couldn’t understand the possibility that there was someone else in this world, someone he just met, that didn’t think he was a fuck-up, a menace, a ruination. But to Harry, the kid just met him; he had time to hate him, loathe him, detest him. So instead of running, something Harry’s body naturally told him to do, he stood there, knowing that getting rid of this new liability would happen eventually.

_Look at his eyes; he’s gorgeous._

Harry glanced up into the boys’ eyes for a second. They were blue and soft and full of sadness, but Harry noticed something in them that he had never seen before: Hope.

_No._

Harry immediately looked over that the railing again, dropping those thoughts. He could run; he would probably make it. In a matter of seconds, his life would be over, no more pain and no more thoughts about hope. But when that hand fell back on Harry’s wrist, all of his senses, all of this thoughts, no matter how much he wanted to control them, he couldn’t.

“C’mon.” The boy tugged and pulled Harry off of the bridge and away from that sharp rock at the bottom that echoed Harry’s name over and over again. The wind rustled Harry’s hair, and he envied the way that it moved without care, with freedom.

_If I would have jumped, I could have felt that way._

Harry stopped; the boy jolted.

He spun around. “What are you doing?”

Harry yanked his hand away, threading his hands through his hair.

_You should have jumped._

“Stop.”

The boy leaned in. “What? Me?”

_You fuck-up._

Harry pulled at his hair. “Stop, stop, stop.”

The boy reached for Harry. “Are you okay? Let me –”

_Fucker._

Harry slapped his hand. “No, stay away. You don’t want me. Leave me alone.” Harry pushed past the boy and started down the sidewalk. Arms wrapped around him, turned him, and held his face. Harry found himself looking into those hopeful eyes again.

“Hey, hey, stop.” A thumb wiped away a tear Harry didn’t even know fell. “Talk to me, okay? Let’s talk. I’m Louis. What’s your name?”

_Louis…_

Harry shook his head.

_Imagine saying his name in the dark._

The wind blew, and Harry convulsed.

“No, stop, don’t,” he muttered.

Louis stroked his cheek. “Yes, c’mon, tell me your name.”

Harry looked up.

Those eyes.

_Those eyes._

“Harry. Name’s Harry.”

And his mind went on overdrive, his sense tingling. Louis’ hands and fingers on Harry’s face brought emotions to the surface, the blush on his face, the raw feeling of desire. And the thumb brushing across his cheek again held Harry in ways he barely remembered. But this boy in front of him, a complete stranger, somehow was tying Harry to the earth, the soft touch on his face giving him a reason to live.

“Hi, Harry.” Louis glided his hand down Harry’s face and onto his arm. “Here, give me your hand.” He gently rested his hand on Harry’s wrist.

Harry latched on.

Louis grinned. “Okay, good. Walk with me; we’ll be back at my flat in a block.”

Harry gripped Louis’ hand a little too tightly, and maybe, just maybe, Louis didn’t notice.

And with every step, Harry watched Louis, noticing the way his hair blew in the wind, the way his chest rose with every breath, the way he bit his lip every other step.

_Pretty._

And as Louis walked up the stairs to his flat, Harry continued to hold his hand, enjoying the feel of fingers intertwined in his, something Harry never felt before. And Louis graciously turned around to look at Harry, giving him a smile, before he opened the door to his flat.

Harry knew nothing about this person, this beautiful boy that decided to take him home. But as Harry looked around the cluttered, dark flat, he learned more about Louis with just one glance. A small, electric piano sat in the corner; Harry assumed he played. A football hid under the coffee table, a clear sign that he played at least some football. The old take-out bag on the island that separated the kitchen and living room told Harry that Louis couldn’t cook or just chose not to. And as Louis shut the door behind him, Harry shivered at the chilling realization that he wasn’t going to die tonight.

“Here,” Louis muttered, guiding Harry to the couch, “sit down; please, make yourself comfortable.” Harry obliged and sat in the middle of the couch, his green eyes wide, staring up at Louis. He smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

Louis began to walk away, but Harry grabbed him by the wrist, not liking the way Louis’ fingers weren’t intertwined in his anymore. “Where are you going?”

“To my bedroom.” Louis touched his other hand to the backside of Harry’s. “I figured I’d get you something more comfortable to change into.” Harry looked down at his tight jeans and shrugged. “I dunno what of mine will fit you, but it’s worth a shot.” Louis gave Harry a smile, knocking the breath out of Harry.

_Don’t let go._

Harry simply nodded, unable to formulate words, as Louis continued smiling and left the room and headed down the back hall. Harry dropped his hands to his knees, gripping them and sliding his fingers up and down his thighs. His fingers slowly turned white, his thighs surely bruising every second he was alone.

_Come back._

Once he couldn’t feel his hands anymore, Harry jolted up and drifted over to the piano. He pressed one numb finger to the soundless keys, his hand colder than the plastic. And when he heard the sound of wood hitting wood, he spun around and glanced towards the hall. He waited for Louis to appear, his thoughts muddled with confusion and pain, but he never came. And when he turned back to the piano, he saw the glint of silver on the kitchen counter across the island.

_Cut._

Harry shook his head, looking down at his pigeon-toed feet.

_Die._

Harry flinched and looked up, his eyes catching the silver again.

 _Cut, cut, cut_.

And his fingers were suddenly wrapped around the cool handle of the kitchen knife as he eyed the shining tip. He shouldn’t have even come into Louis’ house; Harry understood that now.

_Should have jumped, spilling blood all over the rocks._

Harry brought the knife to the prominent, blue vein on his left wrist.

_Should have done it._

He broke skin.

_Asshole. Faggot. Die._

The knife clattered to the floor, and he felt pressure around his whole body and on his cut. Harry blinked and came face-to-face with Louis. His lips were moving, but Harry heard nothing. Only saw the flickering blue eyes and felt the strong arms around him and felt the couch beneath his body.

As if coming up to the surface, Harry began hearing muddled words. He looked over at Louis and noticed his mouth moving to the words he was hearing. Harry’s wrist stung, but Louis’ grip cooled it. As Louis continued talking, Harry grinned, watching Louis’ lips and licking his own.

“Harry,” Louis said for the tenth time, “can you hear me?” Louis caught Harry’s eyes. “Do you hear me?”

The synapses connected in Harry’s head, and he sluggishly nodded, his stare moving to Louis’ eyes.

Louis glanced down at the towel on Harry’s wrist. “I’m throwing out every sharp object in this house.” He picked it up and looked at the blood, a spot nearly four centimeters in diameter. The bleeding slowed down, and Louis threw the towel on the coffee table next to the sweater he pulled.

Harry followed Louis’ movements and reached out with his right arm for the sweater, black and red and warm. He rested it in his lap and wrapped his arms around it. He met Louis’ eyes.

“I like it.” He gripped the fabric, his knuckles whitening.

Louis placed his hand on Harry’s, trading the sweater for his fingers in Harry’s hand. “I – I’m glad. Wanna put it on?”

Admittedly, Harry probably gripped Louis’ hand a little too tightly, but he didn’t want Louis to walk away again. He left for seconds, and already, Harry had tried to hurt himself. And when Louis realized that Harry wasn’t going to let go again to put on the sweater, he walked Harry back to his bedroom and sat him down on the bed, smiling still.

“Let me get a wet cloth for that cut.” Louis disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

The hand that Louis once held intertwined with Harry’s other hand as he tightened the sweater closer to his chest. It had a musty smell with something sweet, something that smelled distinctively like Louis. Harry brought the fabric up to his nose, breathing in, the scent filling up his lungs and his head, making him light and euphoric.

When Louis walked in again, Harry’s eyes were closed, his face flush against the sweater. Louis came over slowly and sat down beside him, startling Harry out of his high, nearly dropping the sweater on the floor.

“Sh, sh,” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “It’s okay; you’re okay.” He rubbed the warm cloth over the broken skin, and Harry listened to Louis’ coos of comfort and slowly his eyes began to flutter shut, his body physically exhausted. Louis noticed. “Hey, lie down on my bed.” He removed the wet cloth and slid his hand down Harry’s back. Harry nudged into Louis’ touch and let Louis lay him down gently on the pillow. Immediately, Harry turned his head and smelled the sweet scent of Louis around him. He nestled in the pillow as Louis helped put Harry’s legs on the bed. Then, Louis silently sat down on the bed again. “There, is that better?”

Harry turned to look up at Louis, his head swirling in LouisLouisLouis. He nodded slowly as he bit his bottom lip, sucking on it slightly. Louis rested his hand on Harry’s arm, lighting the skin on fire. Louis opened his mouth to say something, but Harry dragged his other hand down Louis’ arm, stopping at his wrist. Harry’s heart was pounding in his ears; the world around him was fuzzy but Louis was so clear in front of him.

Louis absent-mindedly stroked his thumb over Harry’s skin. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Harry; I promise.” He let out a smile and slipped his tongue out, only to swipe over his lips once and go back in his mouth. Harry felt a jolt in his pants, and he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, flicking his eyes between Louis’ face and Harry’s slowly growing hard-on.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Louis’ voice was barely a whisper. “I will instead of sleeping on the couch.”

Harry pushed the words out of his mouth. “I’d like that.” His voice was deeper than usual, his words drenched in lust.

Louis let out a long sigh, breaking his stare with Harry and looking down Harry’s torso. Harry bit hard on his lip when Louis’ eyes fell on Harry’s noticeable bulge. Louis swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing; Harry watched Louis’ pupils grow, the blue irises barely visible. When Louis’ eyes snapped back to Harry’s, he gripped onto Louis’ wrist a little tighter.

Louis leaned in closer, and Harry’s vision crossed. The world started spinning, the bed melting beneath him. Suddenly, Louis was right in front of him, and Harry’s head was screaming, his body yelling, every part of him going up in flames. Louis pressed his body flush against Harry’s, and Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Warm, wet lips touched Harry’s, and the only think Harry could properly focus on was his grip on Louis’ wrist, the only think preventing him from floating away.

Harry’s movements were slow, lethargic, as he reached down to unbutton Louis’ jeans. And to Harry, Louis’ motions were the same, gently pulling off Harry’s shirt only to throw it clear across the room. By the time he and Louis were in only their boxers, it had been at least an hour to Harry, and his body was hot and his dick was so painfully hard and his mind was screaming for Louis.

Instead of rushing, Louis attached his mouth to Harry’s neck, slopping kisses beneath his jaw and on his collarbones. Louis’ hands travelled down Harry’s chest, sending the worst convulsion through Harry’s body. He bucked upwards, a little groan escaping his lips, and Louis smiled on Harry’s neck. And the movements were so slow, Louis grabbing the elastic and pulling Harry’s boxers and slipping them off Harry’s body. But when it was done, Harry’s cock pressed firmly against his abdomen, red and aching, dripping pre-cum on his skin. Harry saw Louis’ irises disappear completely when he looked at his penis, and suddenly, Louis was naked with Harry.

The motions were so connected and blurred, and Harry was drowning in his own heat. He grappled for Louis, digging his fingers in Louis’ back, little whines escaping his lips, his eyes blackened with thirst for Louis’ harden cock that was so close to Harry’s. And Harry yelled out when their bodies touched completely, Louis wrapping his hand around both his and Harry’s cock.

Harry couldn’t pick out everything that happened; his mind was gone and his thoughts were incomprehensible. With every new action Louis did, all that Harry did in response was mutter Louis’ name over and over again. When the cold sensation touched his hole, he whined. When Louis slipped what Harry assumed was his finger in, Harry let his body do the talking, pushing down on Louis’ hand. And when Louis’ cock filled up Harry, he cried out, dragging his hands down Louis’ back.

Harry strewn his legs around Louis’ waist, and Louis held Harry’s stare. The walls, the room, the ceiling, Harry couldn’t discern anything, but Louis’ face was engrained in his mind, carved into the back of his eyelids. With each thrust, Harry pulled Louis closer, and with every kiss, they moaned in each other’s mouths. Louis brought his lips to Harry’s ear, the hot breath causing Harry’s angry cock to twitch on his stomach. It hurt so badly, and Harry desired to touch it more than ever; and with every breath, Louis hit Harry’s prostate dead-on.

His breathing was ragged, and his words no longer made sense. Harry listened to Louis’ moans, each one becoming more sporadic than the last, and the vision of Louis coming inside him flashed behind Harry’s eyelids. His balls tightened, and the edges of his vision popped with little lights. Warmth spread throughout Harry’s body as he met Louis’ eyes. They rolled to the back of his head, and Louis gasped. Then, Harry felt it, Louis’ warm cum entering his body, and he dug his nails into Louis’ back as his orgasm continued to ripple through him.

By the time Louis pulled out of Harry, his head was turned into the pillow, little puffs of air coming out of his mouth. Harry thought he felt a cloth running over his body and Louis’ lips on his, but Harry was sure of Louis’ arms around him as they fell asleep, Harry seeing Louis behind his eyes and in his mind.

\- - - - -

**Step Two: Be _Heartless_**

Tick.

One.

Tick.

Two.

Tick … Tick … Tick.

Three … Four … Five.

Harry’s eyes travelled away from the second hand of the bedside clock, his neck cracking in the process. As he pulled himself back, he faintly heard Louis’ voice in the background. Harry’s stare bounced over to Louis floating around the room, grabbing his t-shirt, slipping it on, and slapping his beanie on in the process, the particular beanie that Harry bought him for his birthday, the warm blue one that reminded Harry of Louis’ eyes.

As the thick fog lifted from Harry, he slowly made out the words that were tumbling from Louis’ mouth. “So no doubt I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Louis spun around and gave Harry a hopeful look. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Harry’s brain processed everything that Louis had just said; but his mind couldn’t decipher what to say in return. His thoughts were a muddled mess of many emotions, some of which he had forgotten about until this very moment sitting on Louis’ bed.

Louis noticed Harry’s pause, and he sat down on the bed next to him. Gently, his hand fell on Harry’s leg, squeezing it. “You’re always welcome to come with me, to come with us. I hate knowing you’re home by yourself.”

A synapse connected with another and then another, words finally falling from Harry’s lips. “It’s boys’ night out, and I have some sleep I need to catch up on.” Harry flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Go hang out with your friends; I’ll be fine.”

Louis’ smile made his eyes twinkle, something that made Harry’s insides fold up on themselves. “I love you, babe.” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” Harry just nodded as he watched Louis disappear through the bedroom door. From a distance, he heard the jangle of keys and the light slam of the front door.

Harry collapsed back onto the bed, his hearing fading out and the near silent ticking becoming a steady drum beat in his head. Certain parts of his body kept the beat, his bicep muscle, his eyelids, his jaw twitching to the rhythm. All of a sudden, the sound became too loud and his head pounded a counter-beat, a migraine forming behind his eyes and forehead.

Instinctively, Harry shot up from his resting position and reached his hand towards the clock. Coming in contact with it, the clock flew across the room, slamming into the far wall, breaking the glass face and stopping the ticking. Harry collapsed his head into his hands and, enraged, stood up and stormed out of the bedroom, heading for the living room.

The coffee table was covered with scattered documents and pictures. Harry sat down on the couch and stared at the mess of two lives colliding with each other. Some of the things were his and some of the things were Louis’, but Louis’ things seemed to populate the table. Harry plucked up a photo of Louis and his friend Liam, taken nearly three months ago before a night of drinking. Harry recalled the night vividly: He had stayed home, once again, because Louis made plans with Liam an hour before, and Harry hadn’t heard from Louis the whole night until he stumbled home drunk at three in the morning.

Harry pinched the picture in the middle top and ripped down the center. He tossed Louis in one direction and Liam in the other, and Harry slouched back onto the couch, his face falling in his hands once more. His hands weren’t steady and they shook with anticipation and an emotion rumbling towards the surface. Every day for a year, Louis helped Harry suppress this feeling, but with Louis gone, Harry couldn’t tuck the nagging weight away.

_Fool._

His hands dragged through his hair, pulling his curls and making his roots scream out for relief.

_He’s betraying you._

Harry slammed his hands against his thighs. “No!” he yelled, jumping up from the couch. He walked to the kitchen and gripped the counter. “Louis loves me. Louis wouldn’t leave me.”

 _He doesn’t want you_.

His knuckles turned white, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Louis loves only me.” He breathed out deeply. “Louis does love me.”

_You’re damaged goods._

Harry pushed off from the counter. “No, no, no!” He unintentionally slammed his back against the wall behind him, a sharp pain trickling down his body. Harry fisted his hands and collided them with the wall, the impact reverberating through Harry’s arms and shoulders.

_Why would he want you?_

“Stop it…” His body caved in, and he slid down the wall and onto the floor. He folded in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and tucking his face into his legs. “Please, stop it…”

_You’re a fool._

The emotions he gathered up and sewn shut months ago broke open, the thread unraveling and bringing them to the surface. That empty feeling in his chest tore through his body, and Harry let out a choked sob, tears forming and dropping from his eyes. Harry’s thoughts were a scattered mess of jumping ideas; one moment, he thought of Louis kissing him, the next was him digging the edge of a knife into his hand. And as suddenly as the thoughts came, the worst ones stood out, and a new voice screamed in Harry’s head.

_He’s cheating on you._

His grip on his legs tightened and his eyes sealed shut in anger.

_He’s going to leave you._

“No, no, no…” And with each second, his chorus of no’s got louder and louder.

_He’s already leaving you._

Harry sprung up on his feet, the quick movement shaking the floor. “No!” His voice echoed through the small flat, the noise of glass clanging in the cabinets whispered in the background.

He took two wide strides and stopped in front of the coffee table. Harry’s eyes jumped from picture to picture, note to note. A note from Louis to Harry stood out, written in red ink, and Harry picked it up, holding the familiar parchment tightly between his fingers. It was wrinkled from the tears that Harry cried when he read it only three months after he met Louis. Harry skimmed the words, remembering what Louis had said, and he knew those words were true. Louis helped Harry, and Louis loved him; Harry knew that.

_They were lies._

His eyes fell to a picture with Louis, Liam, and his other friend Niall. They were all smiling, and Louis was the center of attention. Zayn had left earlier that evening, and still, Harry was nowhere to be seen. Another tear fell, landing on the stained letter.

_He’s lying to you._

The letter tumbled out of Harry’s hands. The walls started morphing and spinning, and Harry could feel himself falling. He shut his eyes, but the impact never came. He gasped out for air as he opened his eyes again, the feeling of coldness creeping up through his stomach and into his lungs.

_Fix it._

As quickly as the pain swept through his body, it stopped, fading from his head and back and hands. All that was left was coldness, a frosty bite that reverberated through Harry’s body. The hole in his chest froze over. Harry reached down to pick up the letter when suddenly the ice shattered in his body, another surge of pain ricocheting around in his chest. Harry snatched the letter off the floor and crumpled it into a tight ball, whipping it across the room at the door. He grabbed the picture of Louis and his friends and ripped it in half and then again, tossing the shards into the air. All the letters addressed to Harry found their way into his hands, a stack of nearly fifteen, always sitting there to remind Harry of how good Louis is to him. Or rather was. He tugged at the middle of the stack and threw the pieces around him. Instinctively, he picked up the one picture of the two of them and went to tear it in half; but he stopped as a tear rolled down his face.

_We look happy._

Harry’s thumb stroked Louis’ face.

_Looked happy._

Another tear fell, this time on the picture, and Harry let it roll off the edge. He folded the picture once, twice, and tucked it into his back pocket. He hung his head, tears sliding off of his nose and darkening the rug beneath him.

_He doesn’t love me anymore._

Harry’s hands shook with anger; he bent to grip the edge of the coffee table, and it flipped upside-down, clattering against the floor. He ran into the kitchen and opened up the cabinets. Those dishes were used for their anniversary meal; they shattered on the floor. Louis uses that skillet to make breakfast for the two of them; he threw it against the wall. That was the knife Harry used to cut himself the first night he met Louis; he drove it into the refrigerator door.

Leaving the kitchen, Harry slammed the bedroom door open and went straight for the closet. Inside houses a jumbled mess of their clothes, scattered among one another. He picked out Louis’ favorite jumper, the one Harry gave him during winter. He tore it off the hanger and pulled at the neck, ripping the sweater down the middle and tossing it behind him. He grabbed the button-down shirt that Louis bought him for his birthday; he pulled at the buttons and they popped off one by one, shooting across the room. Harry spun around and dragged his hands across the top of their dresser, knocking heirlooms and rings and ties to the floor. And finally Harry ended back where he started, collapsing onto the bed.

And when Louis pushed the front door open, his vision was a little blurred, but the haziness disappeared when he saw the coffee table. He dropped his keys and picked up half of a letter that he wrote to Harry. His vision moved from the living room to the kitchen, finally landing on the knife protruding from the refrigerator. Louis dropped the letter and ran to the bedroom, where he found Harry face down on the bed.

He took one step into the room. “Baby,” Louis whispered. He noticed the clock beside him as he heard the crunch of glass beneath him. “Harry, talk to me.”

Harry could barely make out Louis’ voice over the thudding in his head. When he felt Louis’ hand run down his back, he snapped up and knelt on the bed. “What?” was the only word he could come up with.

Louis stared at Harry’s bloodshot eyes. “What happened, baby?”

“You leave me all the time.” His voice was monotone, and his chest ached.

Louis’ jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

_He’s lying._

Harry shook his head. “You’re lying to me, Louis. I don’t like being lied to.”

Louis reached out for Harry. “I’m not lying, baby; I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.” He touched Harry’s arm.

Harry flinched back. “Don’t touch me.” He jumped off the bed and backed up to the wall. “You’re cheating on me.”

Louis shook his head quickly. “Baby, I’m not; I swear, I’m not. I would never hurt you like that.”

_Maybe he’s telling the tr–_

_He’s still lying._

Harry dropped his head and gasped for breath. The feeling of pain crept up his legs and arms and rested back in his chest where the hole was. Louis’ shoes came into his vision, and he lifted his head up, staring into Louis’ eyes.

“Come back to me, Harry.” Louis ran his fingers down Harry’s cheek, wiping a tear away. “I love you, baby.”

_He doesn’t._

“Stop…” Harry shut his eyes and nudged into Louis’ hand on his face.

“I’m right here.”

_He’s going to leave you._

“Leave me alone!” Harry pushed Louis back instinctively and moved past him, placing his back against the other wall.

Louis stumbled and caught himself, turning around to see Harry. “Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

_Leave him before he leaves you._

“I need him.” Harry scratched his fingers against his head.

_Make it better._

Harry groaned. “I can’t.”

Louis slowly walked over to Harry. “Harry, please; come back to me. I can help you.”

_Fix it. Fix it. Fix it._

“Stop!” Harry pushed his arms out, and his hands slammed into Louis’ chest. He didn’t have time to catch himself, and Louis collapsed on the ground, smacking his head on the floor. Harry’s body twitched, but the voices stopped.

Louis blinked his eyes repeatedly, pulling himself back to reality. “Harry, what’s happening?” Louis’ voice was shaking, and his visions was fading in and out.

Harry cocked his head at the beanie Louis had on. The blue was so beautiful, so intoxicating; Harry found himself getting lost in it all over again. However, this time, the blue shown the ice behind it, the little shards that could hurt him, could leave his chest open and exposed. And the eyes that wore the beanie twinkled with that same quality.

_You can do it._

Harry knew he had to do it; he had no choice. After all, he wasn’t that heartless.

\- - - - -

**Step Three: Be _Fearless_**

Plink.

One.

Plink.

Two.

PlinkPlinkPlink.

ThreeFourFive.

PlinkPlinkPlinkPlinkPlink.

SixSevenEightNineTen.

Last one.

Plink.

Harry pushed the handle and watched as the last of his medication flushed down the white porcelain bowl. He gazed at the pill bottle, newly prescribed to him a month ago. Louis’ third attempt to help him just swirled down the drain. Harry dropped the bottle on the bathroom floor and looked at his wrists. The cuts were still pink, but they stopped hurting weeks ago. He opened the medicine cabinet and saw only gauze and hair gel with bandages on the side; Louis got rid of the razors a while ago. But Harry still found something sharp.

Shuffling out of the bathroom, Harry listened to the silence around him. The bedroom door was shut, locked from the outside, and Louis left for work hours ago. Harry slept in and should have taken his pills two hours ago, but he found that dropping them in the toilet was a better option. He didn’t like the way they made him feel inside. It was like the hole in his chest was fighting against the warm feelings the medication gave him, and he didn’t want that.

So every day, Harry would drop a couple more pills into the sink, the toilet, the tub; until today, he decided that it didn’t matter anymore. Those pills wouldn’t matter anymore past today because things would be better when Louis got home; he knew it. He had nothing to fear anymore.

Past today, Harry knew that Louis wouldn’t be going out with his friends anymore, that he wouldn’t leave Harry for someone else. Louis’ friends wouldn’t be a problem anymore either because Harry would always have Louis next to him. He and Louis would be together, and their love would be endless. Harry knew it would all work out; he just wanted Louis to come home quicker.

And as if Harry called to Louis, the front door creaked open, and Harry heard the gentle footsteps coming towards him. The door unlocked, and Louis gave Harry a warm smile. Harry noticed that his eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, but that was okay because Harry was going to fix it.

“How was your day, sweetie?” Louis asked softly, propping the door open. “Did you take your pills?”

For the first time in a long time, Harry didn’t worry about the repercussions. “No, I didn’t.” He smiled at Louis, his eyes wide with love.

Louis frowned. “Harry, why not? You know you have to take those; they help you get better.”

Harry shook his head. “I know how to get better. I figured it out. I know how to fix it.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Louis took a step back towards the door.

“Why…” Harry stared at Louis with a lost look. “Are you mad at me?” He grasped his torso. “Please, don’t be mad at me; I can fix it.”

Louis reached in his pocket. “I’m going to call your doctor, okay? Let me call him.”

“No!” Louis dropped the phone on the floor. “I have it all under control! Do you see that I love you, Louis? Every time we touch, I feel a rush through my body; I don’t want to lose that. So I figured out how to fix that problem.”

His hands shaking, Louis grasped the doorknob of the open door and pressed his back against the wall. “Harry, please…”

Harry’s eyes filled up with tears. “I was treated like dirt before you, Louis. I walked down my own road all alone, and my road took me to that bridge that night, remember? And you saved me, remember that? And I know, I know, Louis, that I wasn’t looking for you that night. It must have been fate.” He smiled at Louis despite the tears. “And then, you did the impossible by gaining my trust. Now, my body aches when I’m not with you. Just today, I couldn’t bear it, Louis. But I know how to fix all that now. I know how to make us be together without anyone getting in between us.”

Louis took in a breath. “Harry, I love you, too, and I don’t know what you’re thinking about. But please, let’s just get out of the flat and go out. We can talk all this over in the car, I promise.” He gave Harry a small smile with optimistic eyes.

Harry shook his head, a grin on his face. “We don’t have to do that; we can stay right here, together.” Then, his face fell. “Unless you don’t want me anymore.” His hands twitched as his sides. “I wasn’t joking when I told you that you take my breath away. I love you so much it hurts, Louis, and you just want to throw all that away?”

“No, Harry,” Louis answered quietly, “I didn’t mean that.”

“But you promised!” Harry gripped his thighs. “You promised that if I caved in and broke and left myself open for you that I wouldn’t be making a mistake!” He threaded a hand through his hair and tugged. “You lied to me, Louis! He was right! He said you were lying to me, and now, I know he was right!”

Louis put his hands up. “Harry, I’m not lying to you; I love you! Please, let’s just talk this through! Baby, please!”

Harry pointed to Louis. “I poured my heart out to you! I let my guard down!” He reached behind his back and pulled the gun out from his belt. “I swear to God!” He pointed the gun to his cheek. “I’ll blow my brains in your lap and lay there and die in your arms.”

Louis lurched forward and stopped two feet from Harry. “Baby, where did you get the gun? Give me the gun, please. Baby, don’t do this.” Tears rolled down Louis’ face as his eyes focused solely on the gun.

Harry’s hand shook, the gun tapping against his cheek. “I know what I have to do, Louis; I know how I have to fix things. I just want to be with you and only you. I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

Louis’ voice shook, “Baby, I’m only yours; I don’t love anyone else but you. Please, just give me the gun; don’t do this.”

“No, Louis.” A tear fell. “Don’t you see? I have to do this. It’s the only way to make things better. I have to listen to them, Louis; it’ll make things better.”

Harry shut his eyes, more tears falling, and Louis lurched for the gun, grabbing Harry by the forearm. Harry’s eyes popped open, and he moved the gun from his cheek. Louis pushed against Harry’s arm and chest, reaching for the gun. Harry used his other arm to push Louis backwards, turning him in the process and slamming him on the bed. Louis bounced, and Harry looked at him with bloodshot eyes. He felt the surge of energy burst through his body, and the gun felt heavier in his hand.

“Harry…” Louis pleaded, “Just put the gun down. Please, do it for me.”

Slowly, Harry set the gun down on the floor, his body running through the motions mindlessly. Louis shut his eyes and let out a sigh, and before he even had the chance to open them, the power Harry felt before rippled through his body. Mixed with hatred and anger, Harry snapped and jumped on the bed with Louis, sitting on top of him. Louis jolted up before Harry slammed him back down.

Harry wrapped his hands around Louis’ neck. “I love you so much, Louis.” Louis’ eyes widened as his hands gripped Harry’s wrists. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. “I’m so lost without you. That’s why I need you with me forever. This is the only way.” Harry straightened his arms and pushed harder on Louis’ neck. Louis’ eyes rolled to the back of his head as his mouth formed Harry one last time before a crack echoed throughout the bedroom, Louis’ body becoming slack under Harry.

Tears were streaming down both of his cheeks as Harry moved off the bed and stood beside Louis’ body. He bent down and kissed Louis’ lips, running his hand through Louis’ hair. Then slowly, Harry picked up the gun from the floor.

Looking at Louis, he let out a choked sob. “Promise me you’ll think of me every time you look up in the sky and see a star.”

_It’s fixed._

He put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos, comment, bookmark.
> 
> Thank you so much.


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